I will paint you a picture of my heart's deepest desire.
It's a Saturday. I am standing on the stoop of a duplex in Queens. I have a baby on my hip. There are kids playing in the street outside. Their parents are inside eating dinner. Every dish is from a different country. Their skin is all different colors. Different languages are being spoken around the table. The Korean exchange student staying in my spare bedroom is trying to get a friend to try kimchi for the first time. I finally see the homeless man I've invited to dinner walking down the street. My husband and I go to greet him and bring him inside and introduce him to everyone. The woman I've been discipling shares the gospel with him that night and prays for his sprained ankle. After dinner, everyone squishes into our living room and we worship for an hour or two. My Buddhist next-door neighbor comes in to listen, curious, and ends up singing with us. Later, when everyone has left, my husband and I put the baby to sleep and stay up washing dishes, talking about our friends and praying for them.
Mary Oliver the poet asks, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
That is exactly what I plan to do.
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